


Never met a boy like you

by Katseester



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Post-Endgame, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never met a boy like you

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe Zestiria is coming out in the fall. I won't be able to play it until winter break. ):
> 
> This fic works on the theory that Sorey wakes up Not Quite Human and has lost his memories of his life before as a result.

He reaches out and touches his fingertips to the pale, smooth skin of Mikleo's neck. A hazy, fogged-up memory is struggling to break surface in his mind's eye: touching, feeling, strands of hair between his fingers.

Mikleo jumps as though electrocuted, jerking away from the contact and clapping a hand to the nape of his neck, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Sorry," Sorey says, staring at his hand, as if doing so will help that memory break through. Blue and white and soft and warm, filling his chest to the brim with contentment. "There was something I thought...it felt familiar."

Mikleo's expression softens in understanding even as he drops his gaze from Sorey. "It is familiar," he murmurs, and he takes Sorey's hand in his, bringing it back to where Sorey had touched him. "You used to place your hand here when we..."

Mikleo's expression turns wistful; he lets go of Sorey's hand, and Sorey lets it fall to his lap. He can almost see it - his fingers at the nape of Mikleo's neck, short hair brushing over his knuckles, pulling Mikleo close; closing his eyes, mouths pressed close, Mikleo's breath puffing across his skin.

"When we kissed," Sorey mumbles, dazed, and Mikleo's eyes, sharp with sadness, snap up to him. "I used to do that when we kissed."

Mikleo's mouth pulls back at the corner in a slight grimace, and there's a strange, tremorous quality to his voice when he says, "Yeah."

There are a hundred things Sorey wants to say - _I'm sorry_ and _I wish I could remember_ and _could you please stop looking at me like I killed your cat_ at the forefront - but the memory of Mikleo's lips on his, Mikleo's scent around him, Mikleo, Mikleo, _Mikleo_ , is making his head hurt, scattering his thoughts like errant puffs of smoke.

  
He winces, willing all the swirling confusion in his head away with only limited success, but then cool fingers are rubbing circles at his temples and the pain recedes. He sighs in relief. "Thanks. But how'd you...?"

"You used to get migraines from reading in the dark," Mikleo explains, and when he draws back Sorey wants to catch his hands and pull him closer, but the thought of Mikleo jerking away from him again gives him pause. "I told myself I would be okay with this," Mikleo says as he gestures at something invisible, which Sorey takes to be his lack of memory for anything preceding the day he woke up a while back, "just as long as I could be with you. However, it's been...more difficult than I anticipated."

"I remember you," Sorey says before he can stop himself, and there it is again, that wounded look. "I mean, sort of. I woke up and I _needed_ to find you, and we were supposed to do - _something_ , but I can't - " He shakes his head. "Anything past that...I don't know. It's all dark."

Frustration bubbles in his chest. He _knows_ Mikleo is someone important to him, _knows_ with certainty that the man before him is someone irreplaceable, but when he tries to pinpoint _why_ , the faint stirring of his cognizance from _before_ starts crumbling until he's left with nothing but a smeared-up blank.

"It's alright," Mikleo says, breaking him from his thoughts. "You might remember one day, and if you don't..." His gaze turns pensive and weary; a man resigned to waiting for the next two, three, five hundred years, if he must. "We have lots of time. Don't worry about it."

For a moment Sorey sees him as a boy, as he must have been centuries ago, but then he blinks and the Mikleo before him is the only one he's known.

Sorey wants to say something, but a yawn escapes him unbidden and Mikleo's mouth quirks into a small smile.

"I'll let you rest," he says, standing, and without thinking Sorey catches him by the arm.

"I want you to stay," Sorey says, and Mikleo sighs, but he's still smiling.

"If you insist."

They sleep close to one another that night, and Sorey can't shake the feeling that this is how it's supposed to be.


End file.
